


Gothamite Love Songs

by alastonaurinko



Series: The Summer of Smut [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Hungarian, M/M, Oswald pining, Smut, Speaking in a different language, What can I say I love making them sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24916780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alastonaurinko/pseuds/alastonaurinko
Summary: After being stuck in a confusing friends-with-benefits relationship with Ed for months, Oswald thinks he’s managed to cull most of his romantic impulses. Turns out he hadn’t accounted for speaking in his mother tongue.Or: This is the one where Oswald gets to confess his love again and Ed is none the wiser.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Series: The Summer of Smut [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787152
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Gothamite Love Songs

Oswald cares a great deal about how he comes across. It’s in how he speaks, how he looks; the type of tie pin gracing his collar on a particular day, the slight sheen of his cane in the right light. His often shrill manner of speaking is countered by subtle suggestions all over his person. Little details that help forge the impression he aims to make. 

Many of the accessories he wears have been appropriated from his predecessors. Oswald had learned so much from observing _Miss_ Mooney, _Don_ Falcone and _Don_ Maroni. Learned enough to dethrone them all in one night. Such valuable teachings ought to be reflected in how he presents himself.

For Oswald, the key has always been in conforming enough to integrate, but not enough to blend in. Before he can distinguish himself he must be accepted, or at the very least, tolerated. And the road to acceptance has always been a difficult one. For as long as he can remember he’s had to recognise and purge seemingly trivial traits to fit in. 

Dark circles hidden behind shaggy hair and torn sleeves cuffed so the teacher would stop pulling him aside. Intonating on the correct syllable and choosing the right words so the other kids would speak with him. He’d later learned that foreigners are to be generally distrusted. Especially in Gotham.

He’d practiced in front of the mirror until every sound was _perfect_. Planned for words he knew how to pronounce before opening his mouth. It had been so difficult, so excruciating to write over his every thought, hungarian at the time, just to speak in the right language. The practice hadn’t even borne much fruit. Attempts were made but it hadn’t been enough for him to integrate. So, one day, he’d decided to simply turn that part of his mind off. Seal away his mother tongue so no one would _notice_. Forcibly push down on his thoughts before ignoring them became second nature. A step towards his eventual ascent to the throne of the Gotham underworld, not that he’d known at the time.

Sometimes he feels like replacing _fuck_ with _fasz_ or maybe slurring his words a little. Mumbling through a lullaby he barely remembers. Tiny repentances for forsaking his mother’s heritage. It’s not enough, but at least, she wouldn’t be completely gone like this, he would still carry some part of her with him. Then he remembers that he’s the freak who schemed his way to the top. A gangster kingpin, yes, but he doesn’t have the same amount of respect that Maroni had. Not yet. Maroni’s heritage had been freely on display, celebrated, because he had fit in. Oswald’s barely holding on to his image of stability as it is. Any lapse could be fatal. Because, as far as he knows, that lullaby could open a pandora’s box of foreign expletives and accented speech. Clues as to the Penguin’s derailing mental state, there for anyone attentive enough to make use of them. 

Unfortunately, the guilt he feels is hardly lessened by the comfort of having scraped by another day. Oswald can hardly escape it anymore: visits to his mother’s grave only serve to remind him of his carelessness. He apologises to the gravestone for the hundredth time and leaves more troubled than before he came.

And with Oswald’s weakness bursting at the seams, Ed had appeared. Just. Waiting by his bedroom door, empty handed and with no explanation, Ed had kissed and undressed him and Oswald had let him. Past the threshold into his room, he’d let him have him, _floating_ , practically in a trance, he’s not sure Ed had even noticed, so intent on getting his due. 

After the afterglow had faded —and Oswald hadn’t expected much, really, they’d hardly traded any words during the act, despite his efforts— Ed had just upped and left. Not even a kiss on the cheek, much less a glance of acknowledgement as he’d walked out of the door. Bizarre. It had been bizarre, to Oswald. Years of antagonising each other ending up in uncomfortably damp sheets and a vague sense of disappointment? It hadn’t made sense. Until it had. 

Who else would have fallen into bed with Ed so easily? Oswald can shriek insults at him all he wants: there’s no taking back the tearful professions of love and devotion. Ed had heard them and now has finally made use of them. It wasn’t even for some elaborate game, where Oswald had a chance of gaining the upper hand, orient himself in this whirlwind of conflicting intimacies. A proper _tool_ for stress relief, that’s what he is. A tool with no resolve to refuse him and Ed knows it. Must enjoy it, too. Having Oswald as a willing instrument for Ed’s revenge on him. Or maybe he doesn’t care at all. Maybe Ed saw a port in a storm and that’s what he keeps coming back for. Oswald can’t say with honesty that he doesn’t care, but he’s given up on figuring out Ed’s motives as much as he’s given up on figuring out how Ed keeps getting past his security. He’s grateful for the crumbs. 

The realisation had stung, at first. Though that hadn’t stopped him from giving in the next time. Or the one after that. The same humiliation over and over again and Oswald never got tired of it. He likes being kept on his toes, in a sense. It provides a welcome distraction from his empire being on the verge of crumbling around him. 

The press of a hard body and whispered words that take up all the space in his head. Bruises that sting as he goes about his day. 

Or the way Ed’s splayed over him on the bed, making his way down Oswald’s neck. Another one of their dalliances. Their clothes haphazardly shred, hanging over chairs and bedposts. 

It always feels like they’re on a countdown, when they do this. Hence the clothes. And the scratch marks, on their arms. He likes to think about those, when he’s later pulling on clothes or washing off the residue. How Ed doesn’t get to walk away without evidence of what they’ve been doing. And Oswald gets a memento.

Ed pulls them both up and shifts Oswald onto his lap, a warm hand over this knee. He lets Oswald slide further down until he could feel how hard the other man is. Oswald sighs, a smile on his face, as Ed grabs a hold of his hips. Then he rubs their erections together, a little shove that sends Oswald reeling. 

’’Az áldóját’’ _Oh, the blesser_

A lifetime habit of suppression undone by a single caress. Oswald moves to hurriedly seal his lips over Ed’s. Ed groans into the kiss and grips him tighter. Oswald slides his fingers into Ed’s hair and tries to forget what comes after this.

As he’s being devoured, Oswald thinks that sometimes, he’s scared of how much power Ed has over him. He hopes that Ed never comes to realise exactly how much power that is. 

And yet, with every slip Oswald makes he feels a bit closer to escape. God, It’s all he wants, to leave everything that’s bothering him behind, submerge himself deeper until all he can think about is Ed’s mouth and Ed’s hands and Ed’s cock. 

He extends his arm to grasp for the lube he knows he left on the nightstand and fails to locate it. Oswald breaks off the kiss regretfully, retreating his mouth slower than he perhaps should have, and turns his attention towards the nightstand. While he’s bent over, the side of his neck exposed, Ed takes advantage and attaches his mouth under his jaw and _sucks_. Oswald feels it all over his body and it’s all he can do not to cry out. He wants to sink his hands in Ed’s hair and keep him there for an _hour_ , but knows Ed would lose interest quickly, having succeeded in distracting him. 

He instead flops back on the bed and wastes no time in coating his fingers in the lube. He’s long gotten over the disappointment of Ed not participating during this part. Though he enjoys scissoring himself open, he’d still rather Ed do it for him. He looks over his spread legs to the man in question, on his knees on the spot Oswald left him. Ed’s following his movements closely, eyes switching between Oswald’s face and his fingers, as he grips himself. Lazy bastard, Oswald thinks, and subsequently brushes over his prostrate. 

He whines loudly as his legs fall open, not prepared for the bolt of pleasure.

’’You’re done’’ Ed’s voice is rough, as he climbs between Oswald’s legs and shifts him in their earlier position. It’s not often that Ed speaks during these, he must be impatient today. _Good_. So is Oswald. He grips Ed’s forearms and starts to lower himself on his cock. The gradual stretch is nice but not _enough_. Ed’s arms shoot out to clutch at his hips and then slam him down. _Fuck_. 

He’s mouthing something into Ed’s ear. ’’kérem-kérem-kérem’’ _please-please-please_. Breathy gasps tumbling out of his mouth that are suddenly cut off when Ed shifts him forward by his hips. Just enough to bury himself to the hilt in Oswald. God— _Istenem_. Oswald’s entire body curls inwards, limbs angling to try preserve this wonderful feeling. He can feel Ed throb inside him. 

’’ _Fuck_ , Ed, you—’’ and then Ed thrusts up. Oswald’s mouth falls open and he’s keening again. Right against his lovers neck, as Ed thrusts up again and again, Oswald whimpers love songs that might as well be falling on deaf ears.

He palms at his cock and starts grinding his hips down, chasing that spot Ed hit before, desperately needing to come and _forget_ for a while. A hand lands in his hair. Oswald raises his head to look Ed in the eyes, inquisitive. Everything seems to be going along their usual routine. Ed’s gazing at him intently, head tilted up like he’s praying to god himself, one could mistake the look on his face for adoring. Of course, Oswald knows better. 

He expects Ed to say something but he doesn’t, just drops his hand from Oswald’s head back onto his hip, adjusts his grip on both sides and then raises him up so the angle changes a little before dropping Oswald back onto his cock. 

’’ _Fasz_ , olyan szép vagy, Ed, _fuck_.’’ _Fuck, you’re so beautiful_

His eyes slide shut and he arches forward. _This is it_ , this is what he needs. Oswald places one hand over Ed’s tight grip, and the other on his cock. As Ed heaves him up and sinks him down, a slow but deliciously rewarding pace, he strokes himself in time. 

’’Don’t stop, Ed, _please_ ’’ Oswald cries out, so close to that bliss only Ed can give him.

Ed is being as silent as possible, letting out low grunts as he fucks into him. Impassionate, if it weren’t for his eyes. They remain trained on Oswald, like he’s the only thing that’s real. And Oswald— he’s been high-strung for so long and now he isn’t, it’s Ed, it’s always been Ed, he can’t ignore it, he’s supposed to be forgetting but all he can do is _remember_. 

Ed slams into him once more and growls something against his neck. ’’ _Oswald_ ’’

It’s Ed’s come seeping out of him that pushes Oswald over the edge: his body seizes up and for a moment he’s liberated of his inhibitions. All there is is pure bliss and Ed’s name on his tongue, itching to be spoken.

’’Ed, szeretlek, _Ed!_ ’’ _I love you_

When Oswald comes back to himself, he notices that Ed still has those eyes on him, transfixed. If only Oswald knew what he was looking for, so he could hide it away and never give it to him, have him coming back to sate that desperate, compulsive need to complete what he’s started. 

He reaches over to pull Ed into a kiss. For a minute or two all they do is breathe each other in. At least, that’s what Oswald does. Tries to memorise the feel of his lips just in case this is the last time Ed comes to see him. He’s done it so often that at this point, Ed must know. Oswald takes solace in the fact that he allows it to happen. Allows him to have this. 

Ed is the one to break the kiss. His lips barely move away and his eyes are cast down. He opens his mouth and, gently, breathes out one word: ’’ _Darling_ ’’ 

Tears prickle in Oswald’s eyes. He never knew Ed could sound so tender. Whatever concession he’s giving him, it’s enough. It shouldn’t be so easy but Oswald can’t help himself. Doesn’t want to. He’s content to stay like this, sprawled over Ed, being held upright by his body alone. He hides his face in the crook of Ed’s neck and lets his eyes fall shut. He won’t cry.

Ed hasn’t let go of his hips. His breathing is still a little heavy and his skin is flushed in the most delectable ways. The steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing, Oswald feels it against his own. 

He delights in stealing these moments from right under him. Moments that he knows will keep poisoning his mind. Is this what his mother had meant, when she warned him about hussies with demonic purses? He doubts she imagined he’d be the one chasing after such vices. 

Lying there, Oswald could almost convince himself that, whatever it is that they’ve both found in each other’s arms, Ed would take it with him after they untangle themselves. That the next time there would be slow kisses and sleeping in the same bed. Ed would call him ’’darling’’ again and maybe the love songs Oswald would whisper to him would be in english. He could almost believe that.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me start this off with my deepest apologies to anyone that actually speaks hungarian, my sources for the hungarian used in this fic were the following: https://dailymagyar.wordpress.com/category/hungarian-words-all-posts/swearing-in-hungarian/ and google translate. Feel free to bash the language if you spot any mistakes, i'd appreciate it.


End file.
